This Blood On My Hands
by Snowhearte
Summary: Never again was the promise she made to herself when she had left Roger, so far behind in Kanto. But now, in Hoenn, everyone seems to be trying to push Mae back towards that world which she had visited only briefly before abandoning it forever...
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here, except maybe the plot, and I doubt that even that's original. But the title I own (and I like it, as well) and I own Lydia too.

--

WARNING: If all you're going to do is read this then razz me about my writing ability, then don't even bother. If you're going to make fun of me, do it intelligently. Criticize, but don't flame cruelly unless you can write better.

--

This Blood On My Hands

--

Chapter 1

--

Littleroot Town

The moving van rattling bumpily along the (loong) highways between the Kanto and Hoenn regions was very, _very_ uncomfortable, in about a billion different, equally aggravating ways. Her mood was dropping lower by the second, and it had already been down in the first place, starting out with crushingly sad and steadily plummeting to absolutely furious, not helped by these aggravations. She tapped her foot irritably on the metal floor, in time with her heartbeat, mentally counting them down.

For one thing, it smelled. Badly. The greasy scent of the three sweat-soaked Machoke sitting in one corner, conversing in their strange rumbling language; the choking odor of the exhaust; the stifling stench of the piles and piles of boxes stacked around.

It was also very hot, which just made the smell worse. She supposed that could have counted as two irritations, but then reasoned that since the heat made the smell worse, which only served to make the heat worse, they counted as one both together.

For another, there was hardly any light except for that which leaked through the tiny, pointless air vent and the cracks between the doors; how the Machoke could see to shoot their curious glances at the young human girl sitting opposite was a Pokemon mystery, she supposed.

For a third, it was so loud she could hardly hear herself think, let alone begin to guess what the Machoke were talking about.

And for a fourth…

Well.

She shrank in on herself, pulling her legs tighter against her chest, resting her chin on her knees. _Why the hell do we have to move, anyway? I was _happy_ in Kanto! Everyone was! I _loved_ living in Blackthorn! But now…_

She swallowed at a lump in the depths of her throat that didn't seem to want to leave, much like the all-too-familiar burning in her eyes that had stayed with her ever since the moving van doors had closed on Roger's confused gaze, her narrowed emerald green eyes the last thing Mae had seen before she'd been plunged into the smelly darkness. _Typical there was no room for me up front._

She swiped furiously at her suspiciously moist eyes, refusing to let the tears spill, forcing Roger's image from her mind. The Machoke paused in their chatter, watching her with their bright, inquisitive looks until she glared them back to their conversation.

She leaned her head back against the boxes, closing her eyes with a soft sigh, unheard over all the noise. _Never again…_ she promised herself firmly, helplessly, just like she had been promising herself since they'd left. _First Nelo and now Roger. Never, never, never again, I just can't…_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Her cell phone buzzing against her thigh was what woke her from her listless doze, not Roger's imaginary paw batting her face. She stirred, mumbling the name blearily, slapping at her pocket with her eyes still shut, not opening them to emerge from the half-dream until she had fished the device from her pocket and held it in front of her face.

It was later, much later, judging by the deep-orangish quality of the little light peeking in from vent and cracks. She opened the phone, noting the Machoke were slumped against each other in their own catnaps. Despite how ugly she found them when they were awake, when they were piled against each other like a litter of puppies they seemed quite cute.

She shoved the smile from her face, turning her gaze to the small electronic.

Hi! Sorry to keep you waiting!

Cheery text scrolled up the screen, in such a way that only served to lower her mood even more, if possible. She growled in outrage, checking the number of the sender: 555-0820 (UNKNOWN), it told her. She rolled her eyes angrily at the usefulness of the cell phone and typed back,

**I'm sorry, do I know you? I think you have the wrong number…**

Welcome to the world of Pokemon!

_That,_ if anything, made her jump. This 0820 hadn't even answered her question! He/she/it had just burst out a welcome to a world she had briefly visited twice before abandoning it—for _good,_ she might add. _There's no way this thing/person is gonna get me involved in that again!_

**Is this an automated message?**

Not that she actually expected it to tell her whether it was or not…

My name is Birch.

How creative.

But everyone calls me the Pokemon Professor.

Even more so…

**I've got something to call you if you don't piss off!**

This is what we call a Pokemon.

The picture that was produced at the end of that message nearly made Mae fall over, she was laughing so hard. It was ridiculous! It looked like a little blue ball with a face sitting on another little blue ball (though the second unfortunately didn't have a face) with a jerky long black string of a tail. She saved it into her photo album, giggling uncontrollably.

**That's not a real Pokemon! **she texted back, but the other had already continued:

This world is widely inhabited by creatures known as Pokemon.

Mae's heart sank down to around the area of her toes. Perhaps sank is too strong of a word; it dropped like a stone. Though she'd known it had been foolish, she'd harbored a secret, burning hope that somehow, Hoenn would be miraculously free of all Pokemon and then they would be able to move back to Kanto and Roger and _everyone_ would be happy.

But whatever governed this world didn't seem to care about Mae's secret, burning hopes.

We humans live alongside Pokemon, at times as friendly playmates, and at times as cooperative workmates. And sometimes, we band together and battle others like us.

That statement made Mae flinch openly. _Like you, he means. Does he know--?_

But despite our closeness, we don't know everything about Pokemon. In fact, there are many, many secrets surrounding Pokemon.

_This is getting stupid… why don't I just ignore his messages and delete them?_

But in all honest truth, Mae couldn't do that.

To unravel Pokemon mysteries, I've been undertaking research. That's what I do. And you are? Are you a boy? Or are you a girl?

Mae raised both brows suspiciously, tensing. _Who is this guy, an Internet stalker who tracks people by their cell phones? Oh, well, it means he can't know anything, if he doesn't even know I'm a girl._

**Girl,** she cautiously sent back, curiosity forcing her.

All right. What's your name?

_Kyaah! What a creep! Still, he didn't ask me for my full name, did he now?_

**Mae…**

So it's Mae?

**Ummm, yeah.**

Ah, okay! You're Mae who's moving to my hometown of Littleroot. I get it now!

Mae leapt nearly a foot, almost dropping her phone. That was wrong. That was way wrong. The only people who knew she had been moving were her father's Gym trainers, her mother's friends, Lydia's friends and Mae's friend. She stared at the little electronic, feeling herself pale. _He… lives in_ Littleroot? _And he knows my _phone number? _What the hell!?_

All right, are you ready?

_What, what, what!?_

**For what!?!?**

Your very own adventure is about to unfold!

_Shit, no!_

**Not if I have anything to say about it!**

Take courage, and leapt into the world of Pokemon where dreams, adventure and friendships await!

_Holy shit, c-corny…!_

Well, I'll be expecting you later. Come see me in my Pokemon Lab.

The message faded slowly, leaving only her background picture of her house in Blackthorn and the various options at the bottom of the screen. For a few minutes Mae wasn't sure whether to laugh dismissively or jump out of the van, staring down at the phone long after the backlight had turned off.

Then she decided she was angry.

"Adventure this, adventure that," she snarled, shoving the device back into her pocket. "Dad and Lydia go on about it enough, pushing me and prodding me to go back out. Hellfires, I don't _want _any more adventure! I'm no Pokemon Trainer…"

_Nelo… Roger…_

She shoved her back against the boxes, hard so it hurt enough to wash the memories from her mind, closing her eyes tightly, forcing her mind in the direction of sleep.

_It's a load of bullshit,_ she told herself as she drifted off. _Just some idiot playing a joke…_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Mae woke up again at the loud grating sound of the van doors being pushed open, the dim orange-pink light seeming almost blinding as it exploded within. She grunted, throwing her arm over her eyes before opening them, sitting up from where she'd fallen over in her sleep. "How long have I been asleep?" she muttered rhetorically, wiping a line of dribble from her chin, shaking a crick out of her neck. "'choke?" one of the Machoke queried, jumping out into the setting sun after his fellows.

Mae crawled after him, legs nearly buckling with cramps as her shoes hit the soft grass. She gave a cry of pain and sat down abruptly on the tailgate. The trio of Pokemon stared at her for a moment before bursting out into loud, snorting laughter.

"Go to hell," she growled at them, limping over to lean against the wall of her new house. She looked around, rubbing her knees, and her mouth promptly dropped.

Three.

Bloody.

Buildings.

Two houses and one larger structure that looked a bit like a Lab. And that was it, save for the few patches of flowers, signs labeling the three buildings and one bigger sign in the middle proclaiming the place to be Littleroot Town.

_Mom wasn't kidding when she said it would be small._ Little_root is right…_

The door opened next to her; as if called by her daughter's mind, Mae's small, brown-haired mother bounced happily from the confines, looking as though she might explode with her excitement. "Oh!" she gushed, sounding as though she'd just remembered Mae. "Mae! Isn't this great!? Sure, it's small, and it has a quaint feel, but I'm sure we can get used to it! And, Mae, you get your own room, too!"

"Whoop-di-doo," Mae said sarcastically. "Now I only have to spend every waking moment around Miss Perfect. The hours where I sleep and can't even enjoy having her away are totally perfection free." She stalked into the house after her mother, who hadn't even noticed Mae's attitude, she was in such a good mood. Mae descended into a sulk, furious at being unable to vent at the one person who would've been able to give her a good scream. She closed the door a little firmer than necessary behind her. Make that slammed the door.

The Machoke that Mae had been forced to spend the last eight hours with were already inside, moving boxes, setting up furniture. There was already the table, chairs, TV and cabinet. _They're fast,_ Mae noted sullenly.

"Your room's upstairs to the right," her mother pointed. "And don't worry; Lydia's is at the far end of the hall."

"Great, now I'll only be able to smell her perfume and makeup and crap instead of suffocate in it."

"Oh, shush! Look, Dad bought you a new clock to mark the move. Go upstairs, set it, check out your room and stuff. Okay?" The look she gave her daughter indicated all too strongly that she and Mae would have a 'talk' later. Mae tried not to groan, stomping up the stairs as loudly as she dared. The aforementioned 'talks' insisted mostly of Sherri yelling and/or making snide comments about teenagers while Mae had to sit and take it, unable to even defend her actions without sending her mother off again.

"Hey, lardass, stop pounding up and down the stairs like a herd of wild Tauros!" her (perfect [to everyone else, anyway) older sister Lydia screamed from her own room, over the thumping pop music already shaking the house beyond the firmly closed door.

"I'm shocked," Mae yelled back. "You can actually _hear_ me over that crap?"

The door opened, emitting the deafening music and Lydia's beautiful head, which wore plenty of makeup already and an I'm-better-than-you smirk. "This isn't, as you put it, 'crap,' Mae. It's what we listen to. You know, we of the social life?"

_We of the eating disorders and inflated egos, maybe._ "I do so have a social life," Mae replied hotly. "Or at least I would if we were still in Blackthorn."

Lydia let out her omigod-you're-such-a-loser-I-can't-believe-it giggle. "Yeah, right, Mae. Get serious, you can't even call yourself a Pokemon Trainer."

The smug look in her big brown eyes told Mae she had fallen for her elder sister's bait.

Mae froze with her hand on her doorknob, flashing alternately hot and cold, light tremors running through her entire body, paling and flushing at the same time. An all too emotional pain sang through her chest, like a thousand knives to the heart. Then the shock that had left her speechless turned to outright fury, at herself for falling for the taunt, and at Lydia for administering it whilst knowing Mae would take it.

She drew back her foot, kicking the door so hard a fine line of cracks rippled outward in the dark wood. It would have hurt under any other circumstance, but Mae was too angry to register that pain.

"Holy shit, don't have a spaz," Lydia snorted innocently, complete with the classic eyeroll. "I mean, come on, you can't even—"

_**"SHUT UP!" **_Mae screamed at her, whirling, bolting down the stairs in one long stride. "I'm going out!" she yelled waspishly at her mother's curious, shocked look.

"Dadhasafriendintownwithakidyourageyoushouldgovisitrightnextdoor!" she heard all as one word just before the door crashed shut behind her.

Mae stuffed her fist into her mouth, letting out a long, muffled scream. A passing little girl, no more than five or six, gave her a strange look, as though seeing teenage girls screaming with their fists in their mouths was an unusual sight or something.

"What?" Mae snarled at her. The little one's eyes widened so much they looked like they'd exploded and she scurried off.

"Wow, you're great with kids like you're great with Pokemon!" Lydia shouted from a window.

_No, Mae. Don't throw a rock at her. With your aim, you might miss and hit the glass._

_CRASH!_

"Mom! Mae's throwing rocks at me! Ha, you missed!"

Mae ran before her mother could come out and catch her in the act, bolting past the other house, whirling around it to press her back against the far side with a loud thud. Certainly not the best hiding place in a town of three buildi—actually, it probably was the best hiding place in a town of three buildings.

_Goddammit, Mae, that window's gonna come out of your allowance now… shit…_

_I need a better hiding place. Petalburg, maybe. Dad would hide me, wouldn't he?_

"What're you doing?"

Mae managed not to shriek, which would summon her mother, though she did jump very high and knock the back of her head rather hard against the house. She swore vehemently, clutching her scalp. Low laughter reached her, and she looked up through watering eyes.

A boy leaned languidly in a window above her that she hadn't noticed before in her rush to escape her mother's wrath. He looked to be about Mae's age, thirteen, with dazzlingly silver hair and olive green eyes. She supposed he wasn't hideous, but he'd never have girls throwing themselves at his feet.

"What are you doing?" he repeated, sounding more amused than curious.

"Hiding from my mother," Mae hissed back, motioning violently for him to be quieter.

"Why?"

"I threw a rock through my sister's window." _He must be that kid Mom mentioned. Dad's friend's son._

He snickered. "You must be that Gym Leader's kid. No offense, but I would've thought you'd be a guy."

Mae bristled at the ever-familiar comment. "Well, I'm not," she said shortly, peering warily around the corner. "My sister isn't either, and she's close to becoming a Gym trainer." So far, so good. Hopefully her mother hadn't even heard Lydia's shriek for help, though she'd still be stuck behind here until at least nightfall to even be able to begin hoping that her mother had at least forgotten, what with all the 'excitement' of unpacking.

"Want a better hiding spot?"

She looked back at him, raising a skeptical brow. "Do you have one in mind?"

He smirked. "Door's open." And then he withdrew from the window.

Mae was left quite unsure of what to do. She hesitated, wrestling fear with suspicion for a few tense moments. Finally, though, fear won out, and she darted around the side of the house to crash through the partially ajar door, nearly bowling him over in the process.

"Don't kill me!" he yelped, leaping back, kicking the door shut. Mae gave him a sharp look before grudgingly apologizing. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just tumble through strange guys' doorways all the time, got so used to it I didn't see you there," she said sarcastically, her eyes drifting almost automatically to the Pokeball holster draped loosely around his hips. There were two balls already within. Right on cue, her heart seized up.

He followed her gaze, smiling softly at the sight of the balls. "Are you a Trainer?" he asked. Mutely, she shook her head, biting her tongue to keep from saying something she would most likely regret. He looked momentarily surprised, then slightly suspicious.

"Brendan," he announced, holding out his hand to her. "There, see? Now I'm not a strange guy."

She laughed awkwardly, shaking his hand firmly. "Mae. Thanks for hiding me."

"So, how can you not be a Trainer?" Brendan asked bluntly, getting straight to the point. "I mean, your dad's a brilliant Leader, and apparently your sister is following directly in his footsteps, right?"

_Doesn't beat around the bush, this one._

Mae glared coldly. "I just don't like them, okay?" she snapped, folding her arms over her aching chest. "Not everyone _has_ to be obsessed with them."

"Okay, okay, sorry." He held out his hands in front of him, defensively, then went silent. Mae wanted very badly to kick herself or him—but preferably herself. _The only friend you're gonna get in this pit and you've blown it. Great job, Mae, you even set a new record! Under five minutes—I'd applaud myself but it would take too much energy._

"Maybe," Brendan said suddenly, snapping his fingers, "you'll think differently once you're more associated with them. I could go catch one for you if you like. Around here we've got Zigzagoon, Poochyena, Wurmple, sometimes a Lotad or two—aww, dammit, I forgot. I have to go help my dad with some fieldwork on Route 103. Maybe next time?" He looked at her, and there was both apology and hope in that glance. Mae hesitated… again.

_Never again._

Carved into her heart.

"That's okay," she said cautiously. "I'm good without them."

His eyebrows simultaneously shot up so high Mae was afraid they would merge with his hairline and never escape. "If you're sure," was his only reply, but the suspicion remained on his face as he ushered her out of the house. "I'll see you later," he said, in almost a promising tone, before jogging off towards the little crack in the trees that allowed Trainers to come to and from Littleroot.

Mae watched him go, a deep frown on her face.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N: So there it is, the first chapter of This Blood On My Hands. Personally, I don't like it as much as I could. I think I could have done a better job. But I really don't want to do another rewrite O.o Anyway, this chapter was really just to introduce some of the characters; a few others won't come in until later, and even more won't come in until waay later. So, you guys know what to do, right? Clicky-clicky the little button in the corner for review!! .

--Snowhearte


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here, except maybe the plot, and I doubt that even that's original. The poem is not mine, my sister printed it off the internet and I just really like it. But the title I own (and I like it, as well) and I own Lydia too.

--

WARNING: If all you're going to do is read this then razz me about my writing ability, then don't even bother. If you're going to make fun of me, do it intelligently. Criticize, but don't flame cruelly unless you can write better.

--

This Blood On My Hands

--

Chapter 2

--

Littleroot Town

By the time Mae crept through the door of the new house, night had fallen long ago, the stars splashes of quicksilver against the black of the sky. There was no moon. She had stayed behind Brendan's house until she'd been able to hear the howls of strange Pokemon; by that point she reasoned her mother must have been abed by then, if not forgotten the window incident.

Lydia was curled up on the couch; her Arcanine Growlie sprawled next to her, both half asleep. The TV was on, the only light in the house, switched to some action movie judging from all the explosions. Not something that Lydia would watch, so she must have been asleep until the sound of the door opening woke her.

"Mom's furious," the older girl said sleepily as Mae slunk up the stairs, her Pokemon coming awake all at once to stare at Mae with his intimidating yellow eyes. A low growl formed in his throat; Lydia didn't seem to notice. "You missed dinner. Oh, and you're paying for my window." A note of smugness slid through her voice at that.

"Fine," Mae answered in a monotone, vanishing into the dark stairwell. Lydia stared after her for a moment, then snorted, cupping the Arcanine's face in her hands. "She's such a freak, isn't she, Growlie?" she cooed. "Yes she is. I bet you'd just love to go take a nice big poop in her room, huh?" He growled happily and licked her face.

_He'd better not,_ Mae thought, but was too tired to say anything aloud. She drifted slowly into her room, noticing vaguely that her bed and dresser had been unpacked for her. She collapsed onto the soft blankets, not even bothering to get undressed, wrapping her arms around her pillow. She fell asleep almost immediately, pretending the pillow was Roger.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She woke once during the night, at a bright light shining directly into her room window onto her face. She looked up for a dazed moment, but in the next second had fallen asleep again before she could register what was making the light. In the morning, she had forgotten it.

Mae rolled off her bed, landing on the floor with a groan, looking at her new clock blearily before remembering it hadn't been set. "Dammit," she mumbled, using the bedposts to pull herself to her feet, feeling tired, angry, helpless. She kicked the pillow across the room and pulled some clothes out of a box.

She paused in pulling on the T-shirt, glancing back at the box. She pushed open the flaps once more, hesitant. Her lips trembled.

It was her Trainer outfit: a thick, warm green T-shirt, a red windbreaker, blue Capri pants, her running shoes, Pokeball holster, pack, green head-scarf. A lump formed in her throat.

_Mom must have taken it out of the garbage can and put it in here. Dammit, I should've just burned it!_

Mae opened the pack gently, fingers shaking slightly. There was still an empty Pokeball inside, along with an Antidote and a Leaf Stone. Her breath caught; the Stone had been for Roger.

She slammed the box shut again, shoving it with her foot as far away as it could get, bouncing backward onto her bed with wide eyes.

_Mom, Mom, how could you?_

Mae folded in on herself, burying her teeth in her lip until she tasted blood, holding her breath until she was dizzy. _Don't cry, don't cry…_ she begged herself. She hadn't cried for Nelo; why should Roger be any different?

She took a deep, steadying breath, opening her eyes, proceeding with her dressing. She did a slow, silent count of ten before she left the room, glancing outside briefly for the weather. It was raining, and hard too. _Wouldn't be surprised if there was hail in there._ Slightly unusual weather for early September, but then again, Hoenn was much farther north than Kanto. Hard rain at the end of summer probably was common.

_Probably especially for a shitpile like this._

She snorted in a Lydia-like way, thumping heavily down the stairs toward the kitchen.

_I should totally write a poem about this rain._

"Morning," her mother greeted her from the living room, where she was setting up a bookshelf.

"Hey," Mae replied, forcing cheer into her voice, stretching. "I got an idea for another poem."

"Oh really? What's it about?"

"Rain."

Her mother gave her an odd look as she rifled through the cupboards, looking for something to eat, finding a half-finished loaf of bread. Not that she was particularly hungry, but her mother would force food down her throat with the garden hose if she had to. Best to eat toast dry, really.

"We're having company for dinner tonight," her mother announced. Mae's eyebrows rose. "Are there enough people here for that?" she asked cynically.

"That's enough lip," Sherri snapped. "The Birch's. They have two kids, a son your age and a daughter who's about four or five. I heard she's real cute, too, and the son is single." She winked.

Mae rolled her eyes. "If the son's name is Brendan, I already met him," she told her mother. "He's not really that great. Where's Dad?"

"Went to the Gym already. What do you mean, you already met him?"

"Mo-om, it's not like he tried to rape me or anything," Mae snarled. "He's all right, nice and all. Offered to catch me a Pokemon and everything. I said no." The instance the words left her mouth she regretted them at the scandalized look her mother sent her.

"You said no? Why?"

Mae gritted her teeth, slathering her toast with butter and cinnamon, grabbing paper and a pen from the cabinet. "I _told_ you, Mom. I'm through with Pokemon. I'm writing my poem now. You'll crush my creative spark."

Sherri shook her head exasperatedly, muttering a "Whatever" before going back to her unpacking.

Lydia came stumbling down the stairs a few minutes later, halfway through a huge yawn, Growlie trotting at her heels. "Where's the rest of the posse?" Mae asked sarcastically.

"Still asleep," Lydia replied. "What's your problem?"

_Oh, yeah, because you're totally innocent. Bitch._

"Mae's got a bit of a temper this morning," Sherri put in, smiling warmly at her elder daughter. "Morning, you two."

Lydia yawned again, flapping a hand in greeting. "Mom, I'm gonna keep Ponyta out back for a little, if it's okay. I think it'd like the grass there. It's soft and it loves napping in soft things."

"As we've heard about a thousand times."

"Mae, shut up. Of course you can, Lydia, after it stops raining. We're not doing anything with the backyard for a while yet, anyway."

Mae rolled her eyes. _If I had a Ponyta, would I be able to let it sleep in the grass back there? No, I'd get the whole 'It'll burn down the house!' routine._ She stuffed her toast savagely into her mouth.

"Mae, if you eat like that tonight at dinner, we won't be able to have you there," he mother warned. Mouth too full to articulate a proper response, Mae merely glared and wrote RAIN at the top of her paper.

"What's happening at dinner?" Lydia asked, pulling milk from the fridge, pouring some into a bowl for Growlie and some in a glass for herself.

"The Birch's are coming over," Sherri repeated the announcement. "They have a son Mae's age and a cute young daughter."

"What about the guy?" Lydia asked, suddenly interested. "Is he hot?"

"Not really," Mae sighed. "What rhymes with 'rained'?"

"Maintained. How d'you know, have you met him?"

"Yeah. He's nice and all, just not hot, so you wouldn't be interested."

"Mae is really in a bad mood today," Lydia told Growlie, rumpling his ears fondly. "I wonder what's eating her?"

"Shut up, Lydia, my God!" Mae snapped. "You are totally crushing my vibe!"

Growlie let out a defensive snarl, angered at the rude tone used toward his friend. "Well, sor-ry," Lydia returned innocently. "I didn't think you were actually doing something creative."

Mae resisted the urge to hit her, rinsing her plate before sliding it into the dishwasher. She also had to resist the urge not to step on Growlie's tail as she passed him, plucking her paper and pen from the table, moving toward the door. "I'm gonna sit outside…" she muttered vaguely, slamming it shut behind her, leaving a ringing silence in her wake.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**It rained and it rained and rained and rained**

**The average fall was well maintained**

**And when the tracks were simply bogs,**

**It started raining cats and dogs.**

Not bad for a start.

_Cats and dogs…_ Mae thought musingly, chewing her pen lid. _Does it fit? I mean, sure, I've heard of them, but that doesn't mean everyone has._

She stared thoughtfully out at the rain, which only seemed to be coming down harder. Her feet, unprotected by the overhang of the house roof, were drenched and itchy, but she didn't really care at the moment. She'd been out for about half an hour, and had been able to get only those four lines down.

But slow and steady was Mae's style when she wrote poems. It was how she worked.

She glanced at the Birch's house, frowning, wondering why the name rung such a loud bell. _Well, they are friends of Dad's. I suppose I just heard him talking about them to Mom or something one day and the name stuck._

Brendan still didn't seem to be home, and she was struck by slight loneliness. _How long does it_ take _to do fieldwork? Or is he just slow in the head? I'm bored…_

**After a drought of half-an-hour,**

**We had a most refreshing shower**

**And then the most curious thing of all,**

**A gentle rain began to fall.**

An hour later, and still no one to keep her company. The little girl from the day before—who was probably Brendan's little sister, now she thought of it—was most likely inside playing with dolls or her big brother's Pokemon or something.

**Next day was also fairly dry**

Mae supposed she could just go inside and play her GameCube or something.

**Save for the deluge from the sky**

But it was so much more peaceful out here. Besides, she was stuck on one part of her game that would only serve to frustrate her, which would cross over onto everyone else.

**Which wetted the party to the skin**

And her GameCube was probably in one of Lydia's boxes anyway, which would mean Lydia would be playing it.

**And after that the rain set in.**

Sighing in satisfaction, Mae read over the poem, a slow smile pulling her lips up in an unfamiliar position. _Hunh. I think I like that._

"Hey, it's Mae."

She jumped at the sound of her name, whipping her head around to the source of the voice. Brendan stood out in the rain, squinting at her through the dripping water, mouth half open as he panted. She gave him a little smile, and even that felt so strange.

"Hey," she said back. "Have fun at fieldwork?"

He snorted, drifted over out of the rain to lean against the wall next to her. "Not really," he sighed. "Got rained in at Oldale, the town about ten, fifteen minutes' walk from here. I must have stayed at the Pokemon Centre all night before it was light enough for me to start walking. And then it started raining again. Stayed beneath a tree for a few hours, but Dad was expecting me back so I had to get going."

"Wow," Mae commented, capping her pen. "That doesn't sound like much fun."

"Not really, and I got no research done at all," Brendan groaned. He glanced at the paper. "Hey, what's this?" She moved her hands to display it shyly, and he read it aloud:

"_It rained and it rained and rained and rained,_

"_The average fall was well maintained._

"_And when the tracks were simply bogs,_

"_It started raining cats and dogs."_

"_After a drought of half-an-hour,_

"_We had a most refreshing shower._

"_And then the most curious thing of all,_

"_A gentle rain began to fall."_

"_Next day was also fairly dry,_

"_Save for the deluge from the sky,_

"_Which wetted the party to the skin,_

"_And after that the rain set in."_

He sat back, eyebrows rising. "Did you write this?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Personally, I like it, but… meh."

"Mae, common, it's pretty good!" He stretched. "Anyway, I hafta get home and take a shower. Your poem reminded me, haha. See ya later tonight; we're coming over for dinner, right?"

"Yeah," Mae called back as he jogged off through the rain. "See you then!"

As soon as he was out of sight she unfolded from the ground, yawning, kicking a kink from her knee. _I really should start unpacking my room…_ Glancing once back where he'd disappeared, she moved slowly into the house.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lydia invaded Mae's room while she was unpacking a box of clothes, keeping far away from the one with her Trainer outfit within. That one she would unpack later, far later, when she could have privacy for forcing herself not to cry.

Lydia sat up on Mae's bed, her Arcanine and Charmander curled up together beside her, the aforementioned Ponyta standing in a doze in the corner. "It didn't get much sleep last night," Lydia informed the uncaring Mae. "I saw you talking to the Birch boy. He's not nearly as bad as you say he is."

Mae rolled her eyes, thrusting a pair of shorts a bit too forcefully into the bottom drawer of the dresser. "So you would think," she muttered.

Unfortunately Lydia heard. "Of course," she told her younger sister. "I enjoy guys, not GameCubes. Which, by the way, is in my room."

"Why would you even want him?" Mae snapped. "He's two years younger than you!"

Lydia's smile reminded Mae forcefully of a Persian baring its fangs for the evening meal. "I like 'em younger," she said softly.

Mae shivered, turning her back on her sister. "Well, it's not like there's anyone else," she murmured. "I don't really care."

"Don't worry, sis," Lydia said happily, beginning to braid the long hair on Growlie's tail. "You can have him when I'm done."

_Why does that scare me so much?_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By late afternoon—almost evening, in fact—the rain had finally stopped, only to be replaced with heavy, dense fog that seemed to have rolled in from nowhere. It was actually, Mae thought ponderously, watching the grey smoky tendrils twist through the trees of the road from her bedroom window, rather creepy. She pulled the brush once more through her brown hair, wet and tangled from the shower, before setting it down on the windowsill and turning back in disgust to face the skirt and blouse her mother wanted her to wear.

_I'd rather go naked than wear that. It's just having a few people over for dinner._

However, putting this plea to her mother hadn't quite worked. "This is the first dinner party we've had here!" Sherri had said, or rather, shouted. "You'll damn well at least look respectable!"

"I can look respectable in pants," Mae argued.

"Not in your pants, and in Lydia's you just look like a slut."

"So I'll wear a long sweater!"

"Mae! Wear the skirt! End of story!"

Maybe saying, "It's just friends over, why the hell do I have to wear that frilly piece of crap?" wasn't the best way to persuade her mother to let her go in pants.

Grumbling angrily, she pulled on the skirt, scowling at the sight of her knobby knees, yanking on the blouse roughly enough that it wrinkled in a most pleasing way. Below she could hear the front door opening and the high-pitched greetings of her overeager mother.

Mae rolled her eyes, turning to her mirror and fluffing up her damp hair a bit anyway. _She thinks she's so funny and just_ such _a good hostess. Too bad I can see right through that._

She trundled down the stairs on heavy, bare feet, suddenly shy. What would Brendan think of her in a skirt?

She had to grab the banister, she was laughing so hard at that. The maximum time he'd ever actually talked to her had been less than five minutes; she and her family were just ending their first full day here! But still, guys who were becoming your friend sometimes got uncomfortable at the sight of a girl in a skirt. Especially if the girl happened to be you.

_Oh, damn. That must have looked weird. I walk halfway down the stairs and then out of the blue start laughing hysterically._

That almost set her off again, so she pushed it from her mind and ignored the stares Brendan's mother and little sister were giving her. Brendan's father—she assumed him to be the professor, though she _still_ couldn't remember why their surname seemed so damned familiar—stood just inside the door, already in deep, animated conversation with her father Norman. Brendan stood beside them, half-listening, looking around the house with vague interest. The little girl holding tightly to the hand of her young, pretty mother was, indeed, the same as the one that Mae had snapped at so harshly just yesterday. Mae gave her a soft smile, full of apology she didn't feel and empty of the amusement that she _did_ feel. The little girl's eyebrows shot up to disappear into her light blond hairline.

_Well, I know where she got it from._

She slid up next to Brendan and nudged his arm; he, she noticed, wore a dress shirt and slacks, probably the work of his own mother. Fortunately, the Pokeball holster was nowhere in sight. He glanced over at her, then grinned. "Hey, it's Mae," he whispered at her.

"Hey, so it is," she whispered back. "All dressed up for a night in hell, I see?"

"My mom made me." He grimaced and plucked at his shirtsleeve.

"So did mine." Mae swatted his hand. "You'll tear the button off, then yours'll be _really_ mad."

He made a face at her, and she laughed quietly.

"Well," Norman announced, emerging momentarily from his talk with the professor. "Why don't you all have a seat, and me and Sherri will just finish up making dinner. Drinks, anyone? James, hold that thought on Pokemon prosthetics; we'll talk more about it at the table."

Lydia glided down the stairs, smiling, looking almost dazzling in her short skirt showing too much leg and tight shirt that made her bust nearly explode out of it. Mae felt a shiver of ashamed disgust as she saw her sister, but her parents were already in the kitchen and wouldn't even notice until it was too late for Lydia to go upstairs and change.

_The witch has timed it perfectly._

She felt Brendan beside her tense, then go lax as he dropped on one of the two couches; turning to glance at his expression as she sat down next to him, Mae scowled in further revulsion as she saw he looked stunned.

She nudged him again. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," she muttered. He seemed to jump back to his senses, giving her an apologetic glance. "Sorry," he said quietly. "But, Mae, your sister is _hot_."

Mae grimaced at him. _Should've known. He's as shallow as all the rest!_

She proceeded to make a vow to ignore him for the rest of the night.

She only got as far as the dinner table—e.g., five minutes—before he made a joke to her about etiquette and she had to giggle. Lydia sent her a warning look as Mae thumped down into the dinner chair next to Brendan, with his mother on the other side so Lydia was forced to sit across from Mae, a look that seemed to say, _I thought you didn't care._ Mae shot back a smirk that replied, _I don't. Am I not allowed to have a male friend without any romance involved?_

So far, the dinner had gone well. The food—roast beef, mashed potatoes, boiled vegetables—made its way around the table, each taking a share before passing the bowl or plate onwards. Mae, who hadn't been that hungry in the first place, took as little as she could without her mother becoming suspicious and began munching ponderously.

She was more or less ignored, her father, the professor, and Lydia, though this was covert, being the center of attention. Mae could tell at a glance that her parents were furious with Lydia, and allowed herself an inner smug smile at the yelling that would hopefully happen later. Pretty much the only annoying thing happening throughout the first half of the meal was Brendan constantly staring at Lydia, and not listening to what Mae was talking about to him as a result.

The real hell began when her mother had begun clearing the table and everyone had retreated into the living room to wait for dessert.

Mae had curled up alone on a sofa, playing with a little thread coming out of the carpet, spacing out about some random thing that she forgot about the second the words "So, tell me about your daughters" jolted her back to earth.

The professor was giving both her and Lydia furtive, studious glances as he asked the question, eyes flicking back and forth. Mae caught his gaze with her own, sending him her hottest glare. He merely gave an amused smile as Norman began:

"Well, Mae is thirteen and Lydia is almost sixteen. Lydia uses Fire Pokemon; tell Professor Birch about them, Lyd."

_We'll be here until the next ice age if we let her keep talking!_ Mae thought with a half-concealed groan, burying her face into the sofa arm.

"Well," Lydia said confidently, bursting with pride of her Pokemon, "I have an Arcanine, Ponyta and Charmander, all around level thirty. They're all really great Pokemon, just wonderful, but unfortunately I had to keep them upstairs for tonight."

"That's because Charmander eats everything she sees," Mae mumbled, bringing forth a smattering of polite laughter.

Lydia forced a patronizing smile. "That's not Charmander's fault," she said charitably. "It _is_ still growing, after all."

_Am I the only bloody one in the room that has figured out that Pokemon actually have_ sexes?

_I'm surrounded by numskulls._

"And you've only evolved the Arcanine?" the professor asked curiously.

Lydia nodded. "Someday I'll evolve Ponyta, but right now I'm happy with the way it and Charmander are."

The professor nodded happily, glancing questioningly at Mae.

"Mae, why don't you tell Professor Birch about Roger?" Sherri asked, bustling into the room to check on everyone's drinks and seeing that questioning glance.

Mae stiffened, sitting up straight, thread forgotten. "I'd really rather not."

"Oh, come on," Lydia said sweetly, smiling innocently. "I'm sure they'd just _love_ to hear about it."

"I'd really rather _not,_ I said!" Mae snarled.

"Mae, there's no need for that tone of voice," Norman scolded gently.

Mae shot up from her sofa, moving swiftly towards the stairs. "May I be excused?" she shouted from halfway up, before rushing into her room and slamming the door with all her strength.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N: I like this chapter a whole lot better than the other one, even though Mae isn't quite as sarcastic as she could be here. I brought in all the parents for the first time, plus Brendan's little sis, who is such a minor character I don't even have a name for her. She'll probably only appear in a few more chapters, and really briefly, too. I got in that thing with Brendan and Lydia, too; we'll be seeing a lot more of that! wink

One reason I like this chapter better is that it's _longer_ than the first one. Another is the poem I put in; like I said, it's not my poem, my sister printed it off the Internet, but it's still probably my favorite poems.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it, and I hope reading didn't give you a headache like writing did for me. .

--Snowhearte


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here, except maybe the plot, and I doubt that even that's original. But the title I own (and I like it, too) and I own Lydia.

--

WARNING: If all you're going to do is read this then razz me about my writing ability, then don't even bother clicking on this story. If you're going to make fun of me, do it intelligently. Criticize, but don't flame cruelly unless you can write better.

--

This Blood On My Hands

--

Chapter 3

--

Littleroot Town

The Game Over screen flashed against her face, bright in the dark room, glowing blue, green, red and back again, her character a dim, dead outline in the background. She registered it, or at least the colours flashing on her dull expression, but didn't seem to be able to work up the energy to press Start for another round, much less turn off either TV or GameCube.

She knew she was in trouble, possibly big. She could hear it in the strained quality of her parents' voices, floating through her slightly open bedroom door, chatting away the evening with the Birch's, Lydia, Brendan and his little sister probably crashed on the couch in front of the TV.

She pictured Lydia sliding in closer to Brendan on the couch, exchanging low words with him, letting out her low, throaty giggle that most guys found irresistibly sexy, his little sister completely oblivious, absorbed as she was in the moving colorful blobs called cartoon characters on the TV. She imagined her parents apologizing profusely for her behavior, saying they didn't know what had come over her when, in fact, they did.

And not only that, it was all their fault.

_I hope they all get horrible diseases from each other._

Mae lurched forward, stabbing the Power button on the TV, unplugging the GameCube with her toes, not even bothering to save what little progress she'd made before getting killed. She tore her skirt from her waist, her blouse from her torso, throwing herself onto her bed, not enough energy to put on pajamas. _I should probably warn Brendan about Lydia,_ she thought savagely, picturing her sister's torn, bloody corpse in her mind. _Make sure no one else falls under the witch's spell._

Mae rolled over onto her back, reaching onto her bedside table for her cell phone, feeling the sudden urge to call someone. She opened it, squinting at the bright light, flipping through her contacts list.

_Mom, Dad, Lydia, Professor Oak, Harry Oak… ick, why the hell do I have _that_ asshole in my contacts?_

She went to go press Delete, but her fingers froze on the keypad. She let out a growling sigh. "He's an asshole, but that doesn't mean I can delete him," she muttered aloud. _He's one of my only ties to Kanto, for God's sake!_ "Can't believe I almost did that."

Her fingers froze again a little further down.

_Ben._

The all-too-familiar swoosh of her stomach, the loud thumping of her heartbeat at the thought of calling him at this late hour—_Would he mind? Would he care about me calling?_—struck her, even before she remembered that Hoenn time was two and a half hours later than Kanto, and it would still be daylight there. _But I only left a few days ago… would he want me to call?_ Even if it had been a few days, she had still only just broken up with him.

_Well, I have to know how Roger's doing._

Taking a deep breath, sucking up her courage before it could leave her and her pride before it could get the best of her, she jammed her finger down on the Call button and pushed the phone up to her ear, squeezing her eyes shut as tinny rings emanated from the other end.

It was quite a few rings before the phone was picked up, a quiet voice pumping through the connection into her ears: "Hello?"

She let the word out all in one gasp: _"Ben!"_ There was a long moment of silence, as though he was trying to remember something from far away. Then: "M-Mae?"

"Yeah! Hi!"

"Wow… hi…"

"No need to sound so enthusiastic; I can feel your joy from here." The sarcasm was kind of lost from the fact that she had a huge, foolish grin on her face as she said it, a grin that she was pretty sure he could hear in her tone of voice.

"Sorry," Ben said hesitantly. "It's just… this is kind of a surprise, Mae."

"I miss you, too, Benny. Um…" Now it was her turn to become hesitant, her voice dropping about six decibels as she muttered, "How's… Roger?"

"What?"

"I said, how's Roger?"

"Oh! Um… she's fine. Perfectly fine. Misses you, but other than that she's doing great. Listen, Mae, I'm kind of… busy."

"Oh." She let her disappointment crawl into her tone; Ben would've heard it anyway. He'd been her best friend since she was six and he was five, and knew her better than anyone else. "All right then. Give Roger a hug for me, okay?"

"Okay."

There was an awkward silence, long and tense. Mae played with the fringe on her quilt, feeling a bright blush creep up her cheeks at the realization that she was sitting on her bed in her underwear talking to her ex-boyfriend. She heard him clear his throat uncomfortably on the other end, pretty much the only clue that he hadn't died on the phone. Words tumbled up to her lips, flitting timidly around her mouth without finding quite the courage to come out.

"Look, Mae—"

"I'm sorry, Ben," she interrupted him, twisting the quilt in her hand. "I'm really, really sorry about the way… we… turned out. If we hadn't have moved, I would never have—"

The dial tone hummed monotonously into her ear. She listened to it for almost half an hour before slowly closing her phone.

It took her a long time to fall asleep that night.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"It is understandable," Lydia said to her conversationally at breakfast the next morning, looking altogether much too happy, but at least dressed in somewhat normal clothes and little makeup. "I mean, what you practically said to him was 'Sorry, we're over, but keep an eye on Roger for me, okay?'"

Lydia might have been a complete and total bitch and far too perfect, but she was the best person Mae knew to come to with this sort of problem.

"Yeah…" Mae sighed, shredding her toast. "But I apologized to him, right? How did that give him the right to hang up on me?"

Lydia shrugged. "He liked you a lot. Maybe he was hurting."

Norman and Sherri had gone out early that morning, before either daughter was up, leaving a note telling them they'd be at the Gym all day. Happy though Mae was to put the yelling off until evening, she didn't like the fact that her parents had done this just to build up the dread and suspense. She sighed and lowered her head onto the table.

"If it makes it any better," Lydia continued dubiously, rapping her self-manicured fingernails on the tabletop. "Growlie need to get up another couple of levels. If you want to give me a hand you can take it out past Oldale…" She let the sentence drift off.

Mae jumped up, dumping her uneaten but shredded toast into the garbage and her plate in the sink. "Not interested."

Lydia let out a growl. "Mae, get over yourself."

"Shut up," Mae muttered, heading for the door.

"Seriously. Brendan's not gonna want you while you're acting like a self-pitying brat. You're giving my Pokemon a headache."

"Who says I want Brendan?" Mae snapped. "He's all yours, remember? I have Ben. Besides, I think I have the right to be a little self-pitying. _You_ _got to keep_ _yours_."

She noticed she was doing a lot of slamming doors lately.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Had _Ben,_ she thought to herself with a grimace, kicking at a patch of flowers as she passed it. _You were forced to give him up, remember? Just like Roger._

_Well, I suppose I_ am _being a little too selfish._

_It's not fair, though!_

It was still early, about seven thirty, and there was no sign of any life except for lights in the Lab. The sky was overcast and grey, a light fog drifting among the trio of buildings. Mae felt a little shiver in the chilly morning that had nothing to do with the cold. It felt like a ghost town where someone had forgotten to turn off the lights.

She jogged toward the break in the trees, where the road was, not wanting to spend another second in this creepy place. Oldale Town seemed like a good destination, and she could at least explore there for a while for lack of anything else to do.

_Maybe there'll be someone there I can hang out with._

Mae stepped over the invisible line between town and road, and immediately felt relieved. She looked back at Littleroot, a small grin forming on her face. Sure, she was only getting away for a little while, a few hours at most, but the fact that she was getting away _at all_ was enough to lift her heart from her toes to her thighs, the highest it had been since she'd even learned they were moving.

She began walking jauntily through the woods, even feeling good enough to hum a little, tunelessly, following the sign that said ROUTE 103 OLDALE TOWN, pointing ahead.

_Oh… I hope there are no grassy areas. I wouldn't be able to get through. Well, if there are ledges I can climb over them._

She recalled Lydia's far too happy look this morning, and frowned. _What had her looking so pleased? Thanks to how she dressed last night, she's obviously in as much trouble as I am._

Then came that little voice that people heard at times like these. You know, the one that's really annoying, mostly because it's always right? _Maybe,_ it said, _she got a date out of Brendan._

"Most likely," she answered it with a roll of her eyes. "Ick, it makes me sick how she can do that to guys."

_You should warn him._

"Of what? That his next door neighbor—who is an absolute knock-out—is just messing with his mind? She's beautiful, you stupid voice, he wouldn't listen to me."

The voice didn't seem to have anything to say to that.

_Mark one for Mae, zero for the voice._

"I think I'm schizophrenic. What do you think—?"

A scream echoed out, cutting her off. Mae jumped, freezing, eyes flicking around in alarm. Were there ghosts out there? Were there such things as ghosts? _Could be a Ghost-type Pokemon… but I've never heard one make a scream like that._

She moved forward a cautious few steps, listening as the scream came again, sending shivers down her back. _That was human._

She began to run, following the echoes of the scream, slow, oily fear slicking her footsteps. "Hello!" she yelled, as loud as she could. "Who's there?"

"Help! Oh, god, someone help me!"

She broke in on the scene: a knee-high, canine Pokemon atop a small man, pinning him by the shoulders, snapping at his face and throat. The man held its snout in his hands, screaming for help, just barely holding it back. Already his face and hands were covered in blood—his blood.

He saw her, standing there, frozen at the sight. "You!" he shouted. "In my bag! There are three Pokeballs! Please, help me!"

Mae didn't even think about it; she threw open the flaps on the back, grabbing a random Pokeball, tossing it up into the air in one smooth motion.

There was a flash of pale red light, a chitter; a small green Pokemon leaped out, facing the dog Pokemon, snarling in a tiny, shrill voice that was almost comical. It looked like a gecko, except standing on its hind feet. Its belly and under its chin was red, its eyes yellow with black slits, a thick leaf-like tail curling at the ends, three fingers and toes on each hand and foot.

_What the hell is that?_

She scanned it quickly, biting her lip. "Hey! You!" she called out to it—him. He looked at her in mild surprise, then back at the offending Pokemon. It had averted its attention from the man, pinning its ears down aggressively, snarling right back at the gecko Pokemon. "Um… Pound its head to knock it out!"

The gecko shot forward, unexpectedly quick, knocking its fists twice against the dog's head. It let loose a howl, shaking its head madly, then charged the gecko dizzily, throwing him back. Mae snatched him out of the air as he flew past her head, tossing him back into the battle. "Pound it again!" she shouted, adrenaline pumping through her veins, exhilaration making her pant. "Once more should do it!"

The gecko screeched, slamming both fists down onto the dog's face with all his strength; with a yelp, Mae clapped her hands over her ears. _Little bastard's loud!_

There was a moan, a soft thump, and then… silence, except for her soft pants and the man's soft sigh of relief.

"A-are you all right?" Mae asked him shakily, voice trembling, helping him to his feet.

He nodded, shaking brown hair from his eyes, taking his first good look at her. "Oh! You're Mae!"

"Um…" Mae crinkled her brow, staring back at him. "Professor… Birch!?"

"Eheh…" The professor ran a hand through his hair, smiling sheepishly. "Well. I was out here looking for wild Pokemon and…" He gestured at the limp body of the canine. "Well, I guess I found one when that Poochyena jumped me."

Mae flinched at the sight of it, turning away, picking up the dropped Pokeball, turning to the gecko to distract herself. "We didn't kill her, did we?" she asked, fingers trembling, dread replacing adrenaline. "In you go," she told the gecko, who obediently vanished into the ball with more pale red light.

The professor shook his head, picking up the fainted Poochyena, placing her gently in the tall grass nearby. "No, just knocked it out. Wait—her?"

Mae stiffened. "Pokemon have genders," she retorted. "Can't you tell?"

"Can you?" he shot back. Which meant no.

"Yes." She handed the Pokeball back to him.

He took it, looking at her very thoughtfully. "Let's go back to my Lab, shall we?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"So, Mae," Professor Birch said slowly, handing her a mug of tea, sitting her down in the chair across from him. "Tell me about this… ability of yours."

"Um." Mae took a sip of the tea, found she didn't like it, placing it down on the table between them. "It's nothing special, really. The—what do you call it?"

"Poochyena?"

"No, the other one."

"Treecko."

"Yeah, him. Well, I know he's male right at a glance. With most Pokemon, the males have darker colours and different markings from the females. On a female Treecko, I'd think her underbelly and chin would be a paler shade of red, and she might be emerald green rather than forest green. Also, it's just… _obvious._" She shrugged. "I didn't even get a good look at the Poochyena or whatever, and I still know she was female. It's not that much of a big deal."

"Actually, it's quite the contrary. It is a big deal," the professor said, half to himself. "No one's ever been able to do this before, at least not that I know of."

"Well, maybe your research is too primitive," Mae snapped. "Have you studied Pokemon enough to know about their genders?"

"Of course," the professor bristled. "I know they have genders, but for most people they have to look at their genitals first. You, however, don't seem to need to do that." He scratched his stubble. "After all, it's 'obvious,' right?"

Mae stood up sharply. "I think I should be getting home," she told him waspishly. "Thanks for the tea. It was gross, but thanks anyway."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Birch stood up with her. "This is a scientific breakthrough! If there are more people like you—"

"Not as far as I can tell," she sneered. "Shouldn't _you_ be able to know, what with all your _science?_"

"At least let me give you the Pokemon you used as a thank-you for saving my life," Birch pleaded.

"NO!" Mae shouted, bolting down the long room and out the door. Coming around the corner of the Lab, she nearly crashed right into Brendan.

"Holy shit!" he yelped, jumping backwards. "Hi!" She merely growled and brushed past him.

"Mae!" she heard the professor call after her. "Mae, wait a sec!"

"Go to hell!" she yelled back at him, at them both, vanishing through her front door.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Um… Dad?" Brendan asked tentatively, tapping his father's arm. "What was that all about?"

"She…" his father muttered, eyes wide and round, staring after Mae. "She… she's _brilliant!_"

"Wha—Mae?"

Birch pulled his son into the Lab, closing the door gently. His assistant looked at them blandly before going back to his experiment, paying no attention to all the shouting that had been going on a moment ago. The professor led Brendan to the back room, sitting him down in Mae's chair, collapsing in his chair opposite. "She's brilliant!" he repeated in a whisper.

For the millionth time Brendan wondered if his dad had finally snapped. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd raved about someone: Norman, the Champion, even Brendan—though those rants usually didn't end well.

"What are you talking about, Dad?" he asked, a touch impatiently.

"Mae!" Birch sighed, eyes glowing. "She's a scientific phenomenon! She can tell Pokemon genders at a glance! Not to mention the fact that she's an absolutely _brilliant_ Trainer!"

Brendan frowned at a tingle of jealousy pulling itself up his spine. "What do you mean?"

His father leaned forward, beckoning his fingers at Brendan's Pokeball holster. "Let's see one of your Pokemon."

Brendan picked one out, releasing the Zigzagoon inside onto the table. It looked up at him sleepily; he scratched its ears.

Birch pointed dramatically at it. "What gender is that Pokemon?"

"Um…" Brendan looked briefly under its tail. "It doesn't have one; it's a hermaphrodite."

"This is what Mae would have done." Birch looked away, then glanced at the Pokemon for less than a second. "Hermaphrodite," he said in a shrill imitation of Mae's voice. He threw open his arms, looking ecstatic. "She's brilliant!"

"You keep saying that," Brendan told him, snickering, standing. "That's awesome, Dad, but I doubt she'd submit to testing. Anyway, I've gotta go, Mom wanted me to come home right after I gave you that Zigzagoon."

"Thanks, son." Birch gave him a grin, recalling the Zigzagoon to the Pokeball. Oh—here." He tossed Brendan a different ball. "Give that to Mae, would you? She saved my life earlier today and I owe her."

_Let him try to give it to her. Maybe she'd listen to him._

"Right, Dad," Brendan smiled, pushing the ball into the empty space on his holster. "See you later. Mom says don't get too wrapped up in work, she wants you home for dinner."

His father didn't even reply, merely stared off into space, drumming his fingers on the side of his chair like he did when he was deep in thought.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Mae paced around her bed, muttering furiously, throwing stuffed animals everywhere. "Who does that bastard think he is?" she snarled, flinging a giraffe at the clock, knocking it down with a crash. "Waltzes up to me expecting me to accept his Pokemon!? Sure, that Treecko was nice and all, but that doesn't mean I want him!"

_Never again…_

"I promised! And I don't break my promises! Well, not the ones I make to myself."

She threw an alligator at the window, forgetting that it was open. She swore vehemently as it sailed through and disappeared. A surprised snort came up as Mae stalked to the window to check where it had fallen. Lydia's Ponyta looked up at her in dismayed outrage, nudging the stuffed creature with her muzzle.

"Do you mind?" Mae asked irritably. "Toss it back, would you?"

The horse-like Pokemon shook her flaming mane wearily, gripped the alligator gently in her strong teeth, throwing it up into the air. Mae leaned out as it flew up past her, fumbling with it as it came down, tossing it over her shoulder back into the room. She glanced back down at Ponyta. "Isn't the fog not good for you?" she snapped. "It being wet and you being fire?" The Ponyta looked around her in surprise, and snorted again. "Whatever," Mae muttered, turning back into her room with a roll of her eyes at the Pokemon.

She clambered under her bed, no longer really that angry. Her chest hurt. She curled up around a pillow that had somehow found its way under the bed and pretended it was Roger.

Everything that had happened for days on end had hurt. Physical pain, emotional pain, it didn't matter. It still hurt. Riding in the moving van had given her a headache and cramps from falling asleep in it, sleeping in this new room all alone frightened her—though she'd never admit it in twenty lifetimes—Lydia's actions, her parents' actions, saving Professor Birch, talking to him in his Lab…

Looking back on the past two days, Mae realized without much surprise that the only time it hadn't hurt had been when she had written the poem, Rain. _Those are the only times when nothing hurts, really._ She could just barely see the bulk of the box with all her poems in it, silhouetted against the gloom of her dark room. She tapped her fingers against the floor, a small smile curving her lips at the sight, one of the first since she'd gotten here.

_I remember filling three whole notebooks with poems about Roger, and twelve about Nelo…_

"Except then I got Charmander to burn them for me…" she told the pillow quietly, burying her face in it. "Ugh…"

There was a light tap on her door; before she could even think about pretending not to be there, she rolled out from under the bed and opened it.

Lydia tossed her a small box wrapped in brown paper. "Something from Professor Birch," she yawned. "Brendan delivered it. I'm going to go to Petalburg and do some training there; I'll be back for dinner, though."

"Bye," Mae said absently, closing the door in her face. She turned the square around in her hands ponderously, the paper crackling at her touch. "I wonder what it is…" she muttered, sliding a fingernail under the tape on one end.

"Hey! Mae!"

She jumped, whirling around, peering through her window. A familiar head was poking out of the window on the side of the other house. She knelt before her own window, putting the package down beside her, shooting him a strange look. "Brendan, what the hell are you doing?"

He gestured vaguely behind him. "This is my room. It's right across from yours. Cool, huh?" He grinned.

"S-sure…" Mae wasn't sure she was comfortable with a guy's window right across from hers.

Brendan jerked his chin at her. "Did you get the package?" At Mae's nod, he flapped a hand insistently. "Open it!"

"What's in it?"

"You'll see when you open it! And you can't give it back, because it's a present from my dad and he'll feel really bad."

"Doesn't that go without saying?" Mae remarked, peeling the paper back from the plain white box. "Ooh, a box. I've been asking for one of these since I was four years old—"

"Just open the box, smartass, before I throw something at you!"

Mae rolled her eyes at him, pulling open the flaps on the small box and pulling out something round and heavy and horribly familiar. Bringing it out into the light with a growing sense of dread, she flinched and dropped it when she saw what it was.

"No!" she yelled across the tiny alley. "How many times do I have to say it? _I don't want a Pokemon!"_

"You can give it a nickname, if you want to," Brendan told her, ignoring her protests. "Dad says he's indebted to you, so this is his way of paying you back at least a bit."

"He'd be paying me back by leaving me alone!" Mae cried, throwing the box at him with all her strength, forgetting the Pokeball wasn't inside. Brendan ducked and the box glided over him into his room. "Why don't you people get it? Stop trying to make me go along with Pokemon! Never again!"

She turned her back on him, slumping down the wall, chest heaving, digging her fingernails into the carpet. The Pokeball seemed to stare at her accusingly, a vicious reminder of what she had lost.

"Mae…" Brendan said quietly, so she had to strain to hear him. "Why are you so afraid of them? They're not going to hurt you."

"I'm not," and her voice sounded thick even to her.

"Then prove it." There was the soft thump of his window closing, and then nothing more.

The Treecko flashed out of the Pokeball without her permission, patting her foot with his hand, staring at her with black-slit eyes. "Go away," she whispered to him. "I don't need you." He chittered at her, in the seemingly strange and complex language of the Treecko. "I don't need any of you." He growled, then suddenly lunged forward and dug his teeth into her shin.

She let out a loud yelp, leaping backward. He let go easily, staring at her smugly, licking his lips. "You like the taste of human, you little shit?" Mae yelled at him, holding out her hand. "Go ahead and bite me again, I'll just bite back!" She promptly squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself.

He took her hand in both of his and… hugged it.

"Treecko…" Mae muttered, opening her eyes, watching him snuggle into her palm. "Just go back to Professor Birch, okay? Neither of us need each other, got it?" But it lacked venom.

He chittered again, scampering up her arm onto her shoulder, giving her a little slap on the cheek. _Snap out of it,_ he seemed to say. She blinked at him, rubbing the sting of the blow from her face. "You just aren't going to leave, are you?" she sighed.

_"Why are you so afraid of them?"_

"I'm not afraid of them…"

_"Then prove it."_

"I… can't."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N: There you go, dearies, chapter 3, and a bit of a cliff hanger, too! Wow, these chapters keep on getting longer and longer… This one was mostly to reveal a little bit of what Mae's hiding, and to introduce her ability, both as a Trainer and with Pokemon genders. Ben's gonna appear again later, I think, and I might put Roger in, but I dunno. I like Mae's Treecko, I think he's cool. .

--Snowhearte


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing here, except maybe the plot, and I doubt that even that's original. But the title I own (and I like it, as well) and I own Lydia too.

--

WARNING: If all you're going to do is read this then razz me about my writing ability, then don't even bother. If you're going to make fun of me, do it intelligently. Criticize, but don't flame cruelly unless you can write better.

--

This Blood On My Hands

--

Chapter 1

--

Littleroot Town

"About the most exciting thing to do around here," Mae told Midori unhappily, "is what we're doing right now. Sit on my bed and watch TV."

She surfed absently through the channels, not really seeing what was on. Most of it had to do with Pokemon, of course. "I don't see why everyone's so obsessed with you things," Mae sighed. "You aren't that exciting, considering. We catch you, we battle with you, you get old, you die. Sometimes you even die before you get old. Like all relationships, these ones only end in heartbreak."

Midori opened one eye drowsily to glare at her.

"No, really," Mae insisted. "Aw, just trust me, okay? Damn Pokemon…"

Spending a day and a half so far with Midori wasn't quite as bad as she had thought. Even though every time she saw his flash of green out of the corner of her eyes it felt like someone had driven an ice-cold hatchet through her chest, and indeed whenever she looked upon him she could hardly breathe from the pain. Mae's solution: look at him as little as possible.

So far it was actually working.

_Har-har._

She'd even managed to keep Midori from her parents and sister. They were already used to her not letting any of them into her room, which was where she kept Midori when she wasn't with him. Which wasn't often. The little bastard seemed curiously attached to her.

Mae rolled over onto her stomach, reaching to open the window. _Moving my bed closer to this wall was a good idea, after all,_ she supposed, glancing over at the house next door. Brendan's window was cracked open ever so slightly, which was a good thing. Mae was bored.

"Oi!" she called over, reaching into a bowl on her bedside table and tossing a stone to clatter off his window. "Bren-dan!"

His silver head popped up into sight, hair tousled all over the place, looking like he hadn't slept in days. _Bad sign,_ Mae noted with a frown. Bad, because over the past day and a half she had noticed Brendan had been acting slightly… out of character. _Yes, I only just met him a few days ago, but he's being different._ Midori bounced up onto her shoulder and chattered a greeting to the boy.

"Wha?" Brendan grunted, pushing his window ajar. "Whassup, Mae?"

"Shut up, Midori. Nothing, I'm really bored."

"Go train that damn Treecko, then. I'm trying to sleep."

"What, not gotten enough in the two days you've been locked in there?" Mae asked, rolling her eyes. "You've gotta come out sometime, Sleeping Beauty. Or are you waiting for the magical kiss of a handsome prince?" She smirked.

"Princess, more like," he groaned, resting his chin on the windowsill. "I swear, Lydia's harder to read than Egyptian hieroglyphs."

Midori whistled angrily. Mae pointed at Brendan, scowling, translating the Treecko's cry: "Shallow! He's calling you shallow and so am I!"

Brendan glanced at her, looking mildly surprised. "Shallow?"

"You've fallen under a witch's spell," Mae informed him.

The surprise turned to confusion. "What the hell, Mae?"

"I mean, she's playing with you," Mae said matter-of-factly, her words punctuated by Midori's sharp nods. "Don't beat yourself up about it, she does this to everyone. Mom and Dad just think guys play with her, because she gives a great big show when she breaks up with them." She gave Midori a brief glance. "See, even this little shit agrees."

Brendan shook his head in exasperation. "You're so jealous of her, Mae," he sighed. "She's not nearly as bad as you make her out to be. Get over yourself."

Mae scowled. "You know," she said, tapping a finger against the wooden sill, "she told me that exact same thing. I told her to shut up. I'll say it to you, now: _shut up._"

"She told me why you don't like Pokemon," he shot back, and she stiffened. "You're scared of them! One attacked you when you were just a kid, and ever since you've been terrified of them!"

"What the—what lies has she been telling you!?" Mae yelled. _"I told you_: I'm not scared of Pokemon. I just don't like them! If you and your idiot father just _listened_ to me, I wouldn't have to contend with this little bastard here!" She jabbed a finger roughly at Midori, who licked it.

"Don't insult my father!" Brendan shouted.

"I'll insult him all I want!"

"Screw you!" The resounding slam of his window shutting sent Midori scurrying for under the bed. It took Mae the next ten minutes to coax him out, probably because she was cursing up a storm.

"What gives him the right to be such an ass?" she railed at Midori, thumping her fist on the floor. "Just because the truth hits him in the face doesn't mean he can be like that! I mean, sure, truth hurts, but that's not my fault!"

The Treecko patted her hand timidly. She began banging her head against the bed supports. "I… need… female… friends!" she growled, one word per bang.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"It's official," Mae snarled, much later that evening, stomping into her room, flinging the door open so hard it crashed off the wall before slowly swinging shut again. Midori looked up from his place on her pillow, cocking his head curiously. "They're going out now."

She jumped onto her bed, bouncing him high, catching him in one hand as he fell. "They just left on a date." She rolled her eyes. "Lydia took three full hours getting ready tonight. I watched her in her room—sorry you couldn't be there, she has Fire Pokemon, though—and asked her _why_ she was going to such lengths for a guy she didn't even like. You know what she said? 'I might see someone cute in Oldale.'" Midori blinked, wriggling out of her hand to crawl back onto her pillow.

Mae groaned. "I have no idea why I'm getting so worked up over it," she snapped. "It's just not right, messing with someone so you can see if there's anyone cute in the next town over! Rrrgh, she makes me so _mad!_"

_Eh, what're you gonna do?_ his shrug said.

"Make it right is what _we_ are gonna do," Mae retorted. "God, I'm pissed at both of them." She reached for her cell phone, hesitated, then drew her arm back. "How we'll do that, however, completely escapes me."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The abrupt slam woke Mae from her light doze with a start, sitting up sleepily to glare around the room, wondering at the sound that had awoken her so suddenly. Midori was already awake, perched on her doorknob with his ear pressed against the wood. He put a stubby finger to his mouth to silence her, motioning for her to come and listen.

"What was that, the front door?" she yawned despite his shushing motions, stumbling from the bed to kneel beside him. "Lydia's home? She's sooo late, Mom and Dad'll be pissed."

Midori gnashed his teeth at her; she held up her hands defensively, shaking the cobwebs from her mind. "Okay, okay, I'll shut up." Rolling his eyes, the Treecko turned back to the crack in the door.

_God, didn't know a Pokemon could be so pushy._

She peered into the stairwell through the small crack, trying to see through the witching-hour darkness. A form was gliding up the stairs—no, more plodding than anything. By the figure, Mae judged it to be Lydia, since she doubted that Brendan had breasts, much less feminine curves. She pulled open the door a bit more and hissed, "Lydia!"

Her sister jumped, then turned towards the other door. "Mae?"

"How'd it go?"

"Just awful. Brendan did nothing but follow me like a lost puppy the whole time, and—"

"Oh, god, Lydia, you were on a date. What did you expect him to do?"

"Not make a fool of himself." Lydia tossed back her hair with a snort.

Mae rolled her eyes, the motion lost on the fact that it was dark. "Well, if you hadn't been trying to _seduce_ him…"

"I was not trying to seduce him! I only wanted some excitement here."

"Go train your Pokemon, then. Take the Gym challenges. Anything but play with the mind of the only guy our age here."

Lydia crouched down in front of the doorway, as though trying to peer in at Mae, and when her voice came it was filled to the brim with disbelief. "You're _jealous_."

Mae nearly choked. _"What!?_ I am _not_!"

"You _like_ him!"

"I do _not_!" Her face was feeling decidedly like magma about now, and not just with outrage. Midori seemed doubled over with silent laughter, and she made a mental note to pummel him later.

"You _do!_ Look at you, your face is redder than Ponyta's mane!" Lydia clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, this is too perfect! You'll finally get over that idiot Ben!"

"Shut up, you'll wake Mom and Dad!" Mae whispered. "I am not blushing, and anyway, how can you see it in the dark? And Ben is _not_ an idiot, and I _don't_ like Brendan. Seriously, Lydia, I don't. Unlike you, I can have male friends without falling for them."

"Whatever you say," Lydia said sweetly, bouncing off towards her room. "But as I recall, that's what you said about Ben, too."

Mae swore, shoving her door closed. "I swear, Roger, that girl—" She froze, a bit belatedly at the name that fell from her lips, burning inside, taking a deep ragged breath to keep herself under control. "Well, whatever." She jumped onto her bed, Midori following in slight confusion. He curled up beside her on her bed, further away than normal, turned away from her. She sent him a glare, then flopped over onto her other side. "And I _don't_ like Brendan!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Next day, it rained again. Mae draped herself across her bed with the window open, droplets of water spattering onto her face. Midori looked at her in disgust, hiding under her pillow. She ignored him.

Actually, the main reason she was doing this—and getting soaked in the process—was she hoped Brendan would have come to his senses by now, therefore coming to his own window to apologize. Though by eleven-thirty there was no sign of him, she simply assumed it was because he was sleeping off the embarrassment of his date with her sister.

When she went downstairs for an early lunch, she was certainly _not_ expecting him to be sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands.

Midori—having insisted on coming down with her—poked his head from her shirt—where she'd insisted he hide, thanking her lucky stars she wore a bra, despite the fact that she'd have had him hide there even if she didn't, since she refused to let him take refuge in her pants—glaring at this interloper. Mae shoved him back down, opening the fridge. "Get back in there, you little—Brendan, what the hell are you doing here?"

Brendan jumped, as though he hadn't heard her come in. "Ly-your sister asked me over," he said hoarsely, and he looked like he might cry.

"Oh." Mae shut the fridge door with a shake of her head. "There's no bloody _food_ in this house." She pushed her head into the pantry, drumming a staccato beat on the counter with a wooden spoon. "Ick." She shoved the pantry door shut, leaning against the stove. "So my darling sister asked you over and she's not even here to hang out with you? My, oh, my." She tsked. "Maybe she died. Suffocated on fumes from her nail polish or drowned in copious amounts of hair spray."

He let out a choked laugh that sounded involuntary, burying his head in his arms.

Mae pulled open the fridge again, tapping her foot on the floor. Yawning, she took out some sandwich materials. "Hungry?"

Brendan shook his head, hesitated, and nodded tentatively.

"Then get your ass over here and make yourself a sandwich, I'm not doing it for you."

They worked in silence for a few minutes, Midori sitting on the cutting board, plucking bits off lettuce until Mae pushed him forcefully aside to slice some cheese. "You seem pretty rough with him," Brendan commented softly.

"Well, he knows he's not mine," Mae shrugged. "I cleared that up with him. You're just a groupie, right, Midori? He knows that I'm not responsible for him; anything he does for me is of his own volition. He doesn't have to do anything I tell him to and he can clear off anytime he wants. Preferably sooner rather than later, but he's a stubborn little shit."

The Treecko mumbled something around a mouthful of cucumber that was most likely rude.

"Fuck you, too, Midori."

"Why Midori?"

Mae glanced at him in surprise for a moment. "Oh, right, you've never heard me call him anything but little shit and that damned Treecko. I call him Midori because he's green."

"Hn."

Mae slammed down her knife so fast Midori had to skitter to the coffee maker to avoid being castrated. Brendan looked at her in dim alarm. "Um…"

"Mind telling me what your problem is?" Mae snapped at him, ignoring Midori's indignant cries. "This whole time you've been acting as though your Meowth got hit by a truck!"

His face contorted and she immediately regretted her words. "Okay, okay, sorry, you don't have to answer that."

He flapped a hand at her, biting his lip. "Nah, it's okay. It's just… Lydia… doesn't like me, does she?"

Mae resisted the urge to burst out laughing. "_That's_ what you're all messed up about?" she snorted. "God, you people are ridiculous." Throwing up her hands in disgust, she turned back to her cheese.

"Why?" came his heated response, the most emotional thing he'd said all day. "Look me in the eye and tell me _you_ haven't worried about stuff like that."

She glanced back at him, holding his gaze with her own. "I haven't. The one boyfriend I've had has been with me since I was six. The only reason I would ever have broken up with him is because we moved." She shrugged, looking back down at her knife, seeing her own miserable expression reflected in the metal blade. "Besides, that doesn't even matter anymore, because it's over and we're too far away. You can't have a decent relationship over MSN and phones. Me and Ben are just friends again."

There was silence behind her, then Brendan heaved a sigh. "You're lucky, then," he said morosely. "You never need to worry about that sort of stuff."

Mae shrugged, keeping the fridge door open with her hip, piling the ingredients back in. "If you're done with the mayo, pass it here. Yeah, I guess I am. I don't really see the point in it, actually. If you don't even have the spine to tell the person you like them, then don't worry about whether or not they like you. If you're waiting for them to make a move you're gonna be waiting a loong time." She tipped her sandwich onto a plate and thumped down in a chair at the table. He remained in the kitchen, nibbling at a jutting piece of salami.

Mae tossed Midori a chunk of chicken that fell from between the two pieces of bread; he snapped it up so fast she jumped. "Are you really that hungry? You were just out feeding this morning."

"What _does_ he eat?" Brendan asked, watching the Treecko plucking off bits of jutting lettuce.

Mae shrugged. "Anything. Plants, bugs, meat, carpet, Arcanine… the list goes on. He's even tried to take a chunk out of me." She scowled at the Pokemon's general direction.

Brendan's eyes widened. "He got into a tangle with Growlie?"

Mae snickered. "More like tried to eat Growlie when he was sleeping. Poor Arcanine didn't appreciate waking up to find half his tail down Midori's throat. I was so lucky Mom thought the little shit was wild and had snuck in through the window."

His eyebrow rose. "You're hiding him from your parents?"

She nodded, swallowing a bite. "From everyone, actually, except for you because you know about him already."

"Why?"

"Well, he's not my Pokemon, you see, but everyone will think he is if they see me with him and they'll all be like, 'Hooray, Mae's using Pokemon, just like everybody else.'" Now it was her turn to sigh.

Brendan frowned. "So you don't use them because you want to be different?"

_That's not it at all, good excuse though it is._ "Yeah, sure." She slipped the last half of the sandwich to Midori, suddenly not hungry.

"Sorry, but that's kind of ridiculous," he said with his mouth full.

"Not in my opinion. This way is safest." Mae stood, bending behind the counter to put her plate in the dishwasher so he wouldn't see her expression.

Brendan shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "You're really mixed up. You don't _have_ to be a Trainer."

"And you just don't get it," she retorted. "I don't want anything to do with Pokemon, okay?" Midori chirruped softly, though whether it was at Brendan or Mae was a mystery.

"Okay. Sorry," he added quietly.

She blew a tendril of hair out of her eyes, leaning on her elbows on the counter. "Hey, if you want my advice, forget Lydia. This is all you're gonna get out of her, anyway." He sent her a sort of half smile, fingering the leather strap on his Pokeball holster. "So I'd guessed," he mumbled.

Mae forced herself not to scowl at him. "You aren't going to act all sorry for yourself now, are you?" she asked. "Because if you are, you can go away."

He made a face, dumping his crusts in the garbage and moving past her to get to the dishwasher. "Nah, but I do need to go train a bit; my dad gave me a choice between the Torchic and the Mudkip he had left after he gave you the Treecko and I got the Torchic." He set her with a level gaze. "I'll be wanting a battle soon, Mae, as a price for my silence about Midori."

"Maybe," she answered, just as levelly, staring back until he lowered his eyes. "It depends."

"On what?"

"On whether or not I'm in jail after I'm through with Lydia."

Brendan actually laughed, then—even more shocking—reached over and gave her a small hug. "Thanks, Mae. You're the best." He disappeared through the front door before she could answer to that.

Midori gave her a curious glance from his perch in the fruit bowl. "What?" she snapped. "And get out of there, you'll make the fruit dirty."

He shrugged mysteriously, as if to say "Oh, nothing," and if Treecko could have expressions—and Mae wasn't sure—his would have been most sly.

She wasn't paying attention, staring absently after Brendan, tapping her fingers randomly against the coffee maker, wondering why that little hug had felt so good.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lydia came to her room at nearly midnight, livid, interrupting Mae in her preparations for bed. In fact, she burst in so fast Mae had to shove Midori roughly into her pillowcase, hiding her actions with her back as she sat up. She blinked at her elder sister, pretending to have been asleep already. Though that probably didn't fool her, since the light was on and so was the TV.

_Ooh, she's pissed._ Mae supposed they were both lucky that their parents were renovating her father's Gym and would be staying there until late tomorrow afternoon.

Lydia whipped the phone at her; Mae ducked, holding up her hands defensively, the device bouncing painfully off her forearm. "What the hell—" she began furiously, but the other girl beat her to it.

"What did you say to Brendan?" Lydia shrieked, an ugly expression on her face. "He just broke up with me for no reason at all! _What did you tell him!?_"

Mae shot her the filthiest look she could muster. "Other than the truth, you mean?" she snarled. "He would've found out anyway, and besides, manipulating him like that is just wrong. Besides, why're you complaining? Didn't you find anyone as hot as you in Oldale?" _Kind of bad but perfectly true and I'm too pissed to care!_

Lydia's huge brown eyes narrowed into tiny slits, the expression on her face one of pure hatred. "You're just jealous," she hissed. "I was right."

Mae let out a high-pitched bark of laughter. "Jealous? Of you? I don't see anything to be jealous about."

Lydia tossed back her mahogany curls. "I see lots. Lots and lots and lots. Like perhaps the fact that I can make Mom and Dad do an-y-thing I want them to." Her voice grew low and dangerous. "And would you like to know what I can make them do?"

"You're going to tell me anyway, aren't you." It wasn't a question. Mae dug her fingers into her sheets to hide her sudden trembling.

Her sister's eyes drifted to Mae's pillowcase, a gleam of triumph crossing them. "I can make them kill the rat in your room."

Mae went icy cold. Her hand automatically dove for the pillowcase, giving Midori away before she was even aware of her own movement. She cried out, snatching it back, but the damage was done.

"Ha!" Lydia mocked, placing her hands firmly on her hips. "I knew it." She turned away, pacing back out the door. "You should have guessed I was just bluffing, you know," she called back over her shoulder, flipping her hand in a jaunty wave. "But it just proves it. Face it, Mae, you'll never be a Trainer again, no matter how good you were before." And she vanished into the hall with a guffaw.

Mae fell off her bed, landing on the cold floorboards with a thump. Midori backed out of the pillowcase, leaping down to land on her stomach, cooing in his terror. She sat up, climbing back onto the furniture, shoving the window open. "Go!" she hissed at him, flinging her arms in dramatic gestures towards the open-ness. "Get out of here! I don't want you around! Just _go away,_ Midori!"

He stared at her in disbelief, eyes widening slowly.

Mae growled in frustration, stamping her foot on the mattress. "Seriously! I'm not joking! I really don't want you! The only reason I kept you this long is because you wouldn't leave!" _Oh, damn, it feels good to say this._ "And now I can't stand to see a Pokemon die because of me, so I'm kicking you out for good!"

"Mae!"

She jumped at her own name, whirling. Brendan hung perilously far out of his window, covering about half the distance between the two houses, concern etched into his features. "Mae!" he repeated. "What the hell!?"

She jabbed a finger at Midori. "I want him gone! Now! Out of my sight this instant!" She wasn't aware she was screaming until the echoes bounced back to her.

Brendan looked momentarily bewildered. "You… seemed okay with him before," he whispered, making shushing gestures. "Please, be quiet… my parents are trying to sleep…"

"No!" Mae hissed. "I was never okay with him! I only put up with him out of politeness! I c-can't stand him—oh, god!" She folded over herself, holding her breath, slamming her teeth down on the middle of her tongue, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to fall.

"Mae!" she heard Brendan whisper-screaming dimly. "Mae!"

Midori patted her hair gently, unsure of what to do with himself. A very small part of him was tempted to leave, at least for a little while. An even bigger part of him wanted to go with the boy, who seemed much nicer than Mae. But something wouldn't let him do either one, as though an unheard voice was saying, _Steady now, you can't leave her like this, now, can you?_ He teetered on his toes, overcome with indecision.

Suddenly Mae jerked back up into a sitting position, glaring around the sudden brightness of her room in confusion. "…" She glanced over to Brendan. "Go back to sleep," she ordered, slamming the window shut, drawing the curtains tight.

She scrambled off her bed, stamping her hand on the light switch, closing the door all the way. She slunk to her closet, feeling around in the gloomy dim light of the moon from her window, opening a box. Sucking in a breath, she drew out… her Trainer outfit.

_A Trainer is the best disguise. No one would expect it._

Her breath coming thick and fast, an iron band around her heart, Mae wriggled out of her pajamas and began slowly wrestling into the green t-shirt, blue Capris, red windbreaker, running shoes. She fastened the Pokeball holster around her waist, tied the green headscarf around her scalp, tossed the pack onto her shoulders and took another deep breath.

"Midori!" she whispered, beckoning. He crawled slowly toward her, crouching at her feet, refusing to look at her.

She knelt beside him. "I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this for me. Let's be clear on that, shall we? The rules are the same: do whatever, you are not mine, I don't care what happens to you. There actually is one reason I'm doing this for you and that is I will not have your blood on my hands. Got it? That's the only reason. Now get into this—" she held up the single empty Pokeball from her pack "—and let's go."

Midori looked at her for a second, suspicion and anger in that glance, before his form went pale red and was sucked up by the Pokeball in a flare of the same-color light.

Mae sighed, pushing the Pokeball into place in the first space on her holster, splitting her bedroom door open every so gently, peering out cautiously. Though the hallway was darker than the Abyss, she was _fairly_ certain no one was in it. _Besides, Lydia wants Midori gone, whether dead or released. I doubt she'd care if I did this._ She skulked out of the room and slowly down the stairs, cracking her shin on the coffee table. Muffling her yells of pain, she limped forward, sliding through the front door in an instant, closing it with a small click.

Sudden exhilaration pumped her into a run, oblivious to the pain in her shin, bolting for the edge of town and the trees that just barely hid the road. There, Mae slowed to a stop, glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes lingering on Brendan's house.

_I am very well aware I may not ever see him or Mom or Dad again. I know I won't be able to come back while I have Midori, and he refuses to leave me._

She blew a kiss to each house, backing away for a moment, drinking in her last view of Littleroot Town before turning and sprinting down the road, vanishing into the darkness.

And oh, how ominous that thought seemed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N: W-o-w. I really don't like how this chapter turned out, even though I like the last few paragraphs and the conversation between Mae and Brendan at lunch. It seems a bit petty for Mae to run off to save a Pokemon she doesn't even like from the plotting of her evil older sister. I probably could have planned it out better, but why she did it will make more sense the further the story/plot gets along. Now it'll just get harder for me to write this thing! Which means the chapters will be coming later! Oh, boy! Also, sorry about taking so long. Blame Telus and their mentally challenged Internet, not me. .

--Snowhearte


	5. MESSAGE!

"Y'know what?" Mae said conversationally to her adoring audience. "My creator, Snowhearte, is a complete idiot."

"Oi!" I complained. "I don't think that's particularly fair!"

"Well, it's true."

"Tis not!"

"Mmyup."

"I brought you into this world and I can take you out!"

"Okay, guys," Brendan said patiently, spreading his hands in a calming gesture, "if we all just calm down and give them the message…"

"Haha… and this is why Snowhearte is so stupid," Mae muttered with a short guffaw. "She left half of—"

"It's my story!" I shouted, smacking her. "I'ma gunna tell it!" I turned to the audience with a pleasant smile, folding my hands in front of me, and begin:

"Ladies, gentlemen, others. We at My Computer are sorry to inform you lot that half of Chapters 5 and 6 have unfortunately been left on my grandmother's computer, which is in Edmonton, Alberta, which is why I've been taking so long to post them up. HOW-ever, when my grandparents get back from Mexico, I will ask them to e-mail said chapters to me, and as I am now on Chapter 10 at My Computer, we will get one chapter per week, which should keep you busy for a bit, loves." I turned to Mae again. "See!? I can say it nicer than you!"

"And so," Brendan finished, "Mae and Snowhearte got into a huge fight, and now it's up to me to break it up… see you lot next time we have to post a message!!"


End file.
